


Imagine

by NiwaEngland



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale should slap him silly, Crowley gets carried away, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hell has frozen over, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Stuff happens, That bench outside the churchyard, The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiwaEngland/pseuds/NiwaEngland
Summary: “You could always stay at my place, if you like.”There it was, one simple sentence that dripped with possibility. Of things never said that really ought to have had volume. Especially after six thousand years of infinite somethings.





	Imagine

 -------

_"Imagine there's no heaven_  
_It's easy if you try_  
_No hell below us_  
_Above us only sky."_

_- John Lennon_

_\-------_

 

“You could always stay at my place, if you like.”

There it was, one simple sentence that dripped with possibility. Of things never said that really ought to have had volume. Especially after six thousand years of infinite  _somethings._  
  
Aziraphale smiled softly, glancing over just once. Doubt inevitably drifting slowly into his considerations. “I’m not sure my side would like that.”

Crowley sat on the opposite side of their little bench, a pleasant spot just outside the churchyard. It wasn't actually on holy ground but Crowley had been careful nonetheless. "Sides," he mused. "You don't have a side anymore remember? Neither of us do. Not with the stunt we just pulled. There's no coming back from what we did." Titling his head Crowley's voice dropped low. "You know that. Don't you?"

Aziraphale pressed his lips together. Yes, he knew. But he had yet to fully process the events and their inevitable consequences. 

"Angel?" Crowley sighed, watching Aziraphale closely. "The world isn't ending. It could be worse."

The smallest smile appeared on Aziraphale's lips, his grip on the 1875 bottle of Château Lafite grew tighter. "Yes, I suppose that's true. I'll feel better after a cup of cocoa, a few days at the shop to recover." His smile brightened as he looked at Crowley, as it so often did. "I'll be right as rain soon enough."  
  
Crowley pinched his expression. "I already told you that it burned down." Aziraphale's sudden stare caused Crowley's confidence to falter.

"I did tell you, didn't I?" True, that he'd been drinking excessively at the time but Crowley could remember some bits well enough. Aziraphale coming back from the dead, for example. The best magic trick he'd ever performed. 

"Oh," Aziraphale's blue eyes blinked at him, expressive. But not quite as bright. "Yes, of course. How foolish of me, to forget such a thing. Rather too distracted with disembodiment and the end of times as it were." Smiling mournfully Aziraphale tried to banish the emotional tidal wave inside, a concoction of every bad emotion he had ever had. Everything was gone. All the wonderful things he had managed to accumulate throughout the ages. So much history. All of his books. Gone. "Are you quite certain that it burned right down?"

"Oh, I'm sure." Crowley sniffed, scenting for danger. "Flaming hot inferno's tend to do that angel."

Aziraphale felt the beginnings of a frown, not at all sure if Crowley was stating his species or if it was an affectionate throw-away term. "I know what fire can do Crowley. The question is why were you there at all?"

"Looking for you," Crowley replied, his brow lifted high above his sunglasses. "Obviously. What oh- _really._ " The demon scoffed. "You thought that I popped by just to set your shop on fire, burn everything you own because we just so happened to disagree? Aren't you the one who is meant to have faith? That's the gratitude I get. Not like I was driving one hundred miles per hour, trying to rescue you or anything."

Aziraphale made a sequence of faces as thoughts flashed through his mind. Finally, he settled on one. "Whyever would you need to rescue me?"

"Stuff happened."

"Well," Aziraphale strained to follow. "Why didn't you just answer me properly when I called? You always answer."

Crowley deliberately stared straight ahead, "I answered. I just couldn't talk. Hastur dropped by with Ligur. Not my biggest fans. Turns out head office was a bit upset with me. Consequences of my own actions and so on. Must say that holy water came in mighty handy. Worked like a charm." Lolling his head Crowley gleamed a smiled at Aziraphale's horrified expression. "I told you that my lot don't send rude notes."

Aziraphale stuttered, swallowing down an almighty lump in his throat. "I'm- I'm _sorry_. I didn't realise that was the case."

"Hastur heard you," Crowley said seriously. "He knew exactly who you were, said something about us being besties and that we were both dead."

Aziraphale hummed pensively. "I also had some very unwelcome visitors, angels can also conduct themselves rather poorly. They knew about you to, called you my _boyfriend in the dark glasses_." Thinking it would lighten the mood Aziraphale chuckled, "can you imagine that?" He leant over to playfully nudge Crowley. Handing him the wine. "They weren't best pleased with me. Got a little rough in fact. Said that I thought too much."

On a better day, Crowley would have been all over the boyfriend reference. Furthermore, he'd have straight-up insisted that Aziraphale give him the names of those who had dared to get a little rough. But instead, he sat motionless. Hopelessly overwhelmed and lost in recent memories, still so fresh and entirely too raw.  
  
"I tried to call you," he said softly. Looking at Aziraphale, Crowley let his facade drop for just a moment. "When you didn't answer I started to think about what was happening on your end. When I got to your shop there was nothing left but flames. I thought that Hell or even Heaven had- I really _believed_ that I'd lost-" Crowley coughed, catching himself short of sentimental. "I jumped to the wrong conclusion. Called upstairs and down a bunch of bastards." He took a long swig of the Château Lafite.  
  
Intrigued Aziraphale found himself leaning just a little bit closer. "My dear, you didn't think that I was..."

Crowley, to his complete horror, felt his shoulders begin to tremble ever so slightly. His face crumpled in a distinctly ominous way. Aziraphale gasped.  
"You thought that I was dead?"

"Like that can't actually happen," Crowley defended himself. Bristling and coiling. Holding onto anger over the hurt. Because that was a damn sight easier.  
"What was I supposed to think? I couldn't find you."

"You went in?" Aziraphale blanched. "Crowley the shop was on fire!"

"So?" Crowley settled himself again. Glad that he wasn't the only one who was prone to impromptu panic. "Fire is your weakness, not mine."

Aziraphale sighed, folding his hands in his lap, he couldn't help but fiddle. Too many things had happened, too much hurt was waiting right around the bend. For the first time in an age, Aziraphale felt truly tired. He had never understood Crowley's need for the comfort of sleep. But now the notion of collapsing into a warm, fluffy bed seemed infinitely appealing. It was a terrible shame that his bed had burned. He reached out meaningfully, gladly taking the offered bottle and drinking deeply from it. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Dunno," Crowley shrugged. "Anything that we want to do." He knew that a shit storm was still on its way. He could taste the promise of a thunderstorm in the air. Apparently, Heaven and Hell weren't willing to overlook a silly little thing like preventing Armageddon. Putting off the much-anticipated war. Sticklers that they were. "Whatever happens we should...amend the agreement. Or just get rid of it entirely. We need to stick together. Figure things out. You can stay at my place for a while. I wouldn't mind. Stay as long as you like."

"Whatever happened to Alpha Centauri?" Aziraphale said sharply. It had after all been his companion's number one destination not so long ago. "Didn't you want to run away together? Before it was the universe, the stars. Now it's back to your flat?"

Crowley bristled, inwardly embarrassed. "There was nothing wrong with that plan. You were just being difficult. I shouldn't have bothered, I should have just dragged you along." It conjured a ridiculous image in the demon's mind. What would have happened had he just marched up to the angel, snatched him up over his shoulder and walked? Aziraphale would have made an indignant fuss of course but no one would have dared to intervene. 

"It was a ridiculous idea," Aziraphale persisted. Stealing back the bottle. Snapping Crowley from his musings. "Utter nonsense was what it was. Besides you just showed up and started shouting at me on the street."

"It was an apology!"  
  
"A poor one, followed by a demand to get in your car."

"So? That'sss exactly what you should have done." Crowley hissed. "Would it have really of been so bloody bad to give in? To be a little bit selfish after all these years? To just listen to me for once?"  
  
Anxiety radiated off of Aziraphale in waves. Crowley took a long, steadying breath. Slow, he had to go slow. "I'm not sorry I asked, I'm not sorry I stayed. None of it really matters now." He snatched the bottle of wine from Aziraphale's fingers. The angel wasn't making much use of it. 

"I didn't mean to disregard your feelings, Crowley. I just couldn't leave." Aziraphale tentatively reached across and took the bottle back. Knowing that it had become a kind of game between them. Carefully he took a long sip. He rather felt that now was the moment, if there ever was one to probe a bit deeper into the whole 'run away together' business. But as he looked at Crowley his heart started to positively pound. "We shouldn't argue. Not tonight." Biting his bottom lip because he'd bottled out Aziraphale glanced determinedly down. Wondering why he never had the courage. "Whatever your reasons, I'm very glad that you decided to stay. Couldn't have done it without you."

Crowley stared, his attention almost unbearable. "We saved the day, or we certainly helped the world to keep on spinning. Now everything can go back to the way it was. Although I suppose I might to have to start all over again." Fussing Aziraphale wished his words made more sense."Things worked perfectly fine the way they were before."

Crowley didn't say anything for a few moments. He neither agreed or disagreed with Aziraphale. "Well before things go back to the way they were why not accept my gracious invitation?"

Entirely put out by the prospect Aziraphale tried to sense Crowley's inner workings. An impossible task at the best of times. "Do you need me to?"

"I'd like you to," Crowley crooned, starting to smile cooly. "It could be...nice."

"Nice is not a word you use," Aziraphale reflected. Recalling the vivid memory of Crowley shoving him up against a wall and demanding that the word should never be used in his esteemed and obviously evil presence again. A sudden and surprising reaction, shamefully exciting. Aziraphale felt a stab of temptation to try it again. "Wouldn't it bother you? Sharing your space with me?"

"Not really."

Aziraphale's thoughts ran off along several different tracks. "I don't need protecting Crowley. If that's what this business is all about. I was the Angel of the Eastern Gate. I had a flaming sword."

"Which you gave away."

"But it was still mine," Aziraphale argued. Looking all the more appealing and downright adorable in Crowley's eyes. Fluffing himself up. "And if you're not trying to protect me then you must want something else instead." Face a fraction hotter than before Aziraphale turned fully away. Knowing that Crowley, in turn, was absolutely staring. "If you think that you can just turn on the charm and take advantage-"

Crowley's smile dropped dead away.

"Then you better think again-"

"When?" Crowley challenged. A distinctive chill in the air. Radiating in waves. A sudden cold snap. Drawing Aziraphale's full, undivided attention. "When have I taken advantage of you?"

"I never said that you did." Aziraphale straightened, his posture impeccable.  
"I just- I'm not sure. I don't know what exactly it is that you are trying to achieve." 

"Seduction, surrender, sex, apparently. Take your pick. Maybe all I ever want from you is to spread those white wings of yours. Give our ex superiors a bit of a show." It was wicked but Crowley had said it before he could fully think it. "I do just love to hear you beg and babble."

Aziraphale saw red and turned red simultaneously. Risking a smiting Crowley leaned a little closer. Just daring Aziraphale to make a momentous move.  
"You accuse me and yet you're the one _assuming_ that something more might happen."

Aziraphale scowled so hard and so intensely that it was borderline murderous. An expression he rarely let loose. Delighted Crowley cackled. "It's not like it hasn't happened before. But who says it has to happen now or ever again?" Letting his arm unwind all the way across the back of the bench. Crowley pressed forward, flirtatious and bold. "I'm open to suggestions if you have any ideas, angel. But for the moment let's pretend that it's the end of the world all over again." Crowley's focus was so intense. Closing for the kill. "Everything could in fact end tomorrow. So forget everything else. Shut up and stay with me tonight."

Something then had indeed changed between them. Aziraphale reasoned it all out. Crowley, infinite arse that he was had never pushed so far. Had never been so blatantly open. Even in the dark, the principality could catch his reflection in the serpents shades. It was startling and deep down it was truly tempting. But the demon was much too close and closing.

Aziraphale tried to speak and failed. Panic surged through him as Crowley's breath mingled with his own. Trapped against the bench as he was Aziraphale suddenly snapped. "Stop! Would you please just stop." Crowley complied but he didn't retreat.

"What your suggesting is absolutely impossible. It's dangerous even. To even say such things. Why must you persist? Even you must know that this," he gestured cluelessly and wildly between them. "Is just- well. Wrong. My dear fellow, it is simply bizarre! It just isn't done."

Crowley said absolutely nothing for several minutes. Although he sat back slightly to allow a certain hysterical angel to breathe. On the eighth minute, he spoke again. Inspired. "I have a spare room."

Quietly Aziraphale rubbed his hands together. Glancing all around. "You do?"

"It's all yours if you want it. Scouts honour. No strings attached."

Something inside Aziraphale's stomach tightened, it twisted too. If he didn't know better it could have been disappointment there, merged with the relief. He looked very hard at Crowley then. "I'm still not sure..."

Crowley's arm recoiled, the distance between them became larger in every possible way. A void now existed where it just hadn't been before. 

"My dear," Aziraphale tried to appease. Back peddling as if he owned a bike with one too many gears. "I didn't mean-"

"What?" Crowley hissed with a sharp snap. Entirely raw. "You didn't mean what?"

Aziraphale sighed, despairingly. "I didn't mean to upset you. This is all...it's a difficult situation. Perhaps I've overstepped? Maybe I should go?" He asked, hoping that Crowley would come around. "That's what I'll do then," Aziraphale pressed, mouth forming into a tight stubborn little line. "Perhaps, when things have settled we can have lunch. Maybe dine at the Ritz?" Still getting the cold shoulder Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the heady sense of rejection. Hell had indeed frozen over. "Do have a safe trip home won't you?"  
  
Not expecting an answer Aziraphale exhaled a breath of further disappointment. He stood slowly, the act an effort. As something snaked itself around his arm, Aziraphale shrieked. Tumbling suddenly as Crowley grabbed and yanked him down hard. In a blur of motion Crowley managed to pin Aziraphale flat upon his back. Manoeuvring himself triumphantly on top. Sitting there smug like a king on his throne. The Château Lafite smashed loudly just before Crowley spoke with his most hellish tone. "I didn't say you could go."

Aghast Aziraphale gawked, his eyes practically popping with surprise "excuse me?"

"You heard angel. But don't blame me." Crowley sing songed. "I'm just doing what demons do," Crowley leaned down to whisper."Causing a little trouble," he smiled, utterly unhinged. A serpent playing with prey. "Issn't this what you expected? To be devoured? I'm just playing my part, can't deviate from evil now can I. It's what I do, what I am."

Trying to sit up Aziraphale flailed clumsily as Crowley pushed him down again. "Crowley!" Aziraphale warned with a squeak. Panic and uncertainty ebbing into his voice. "Stop."

"Stop, stop what? You don't have the imagination for what I could do to you, Aziraphale. You've got no idea. Haven't had the foggiest clue, since Eden. No sense of danger. That's your problem. Positive presumption."  
  
"Just listen to yourself!" trying again Aziraphale struggled against Crowley's weight. Which admittedly wasn't much. It was his dammed demonic strength that was the problem, and Crowley wasn't even exerting himself in the effort.  
"You go too far."

Crowly growled, somewhere deep in the back of his throat. He didn't care for the gentle yet ridiculous hands shoving up at him insistently. Grabbing both of Aziraphale's wrists he pressed them down together just where Aziraphale's halo would be. "Do just shut up and save yourself. If of course, you can. Better hurry." 

"Really now," Aziraphale chided, nervous. Thoroughly offended and finding it difficult to breathe. "This really isn't funny..." He searched Crowley's expression, for something that was familiar. Reasonable. Or at least reachable. Crowley looked devilish, not a friend but a thing possessed. Aziraphale dug in his heels and began to thrash. Trying to dislodge Crowley this way and that. "Someone might see!"

"Let them," Crowley hissed. "Who the hell cares."

“I care!" Aziraphale insisted hysterically. "Don’t get rough with me, I won’t stand for it.” 

Crowley threw back his head and laughed. As the demon came down off the high Aziraphale mustered up his best game face, embarrassed as he could do little more than wiggle whilst the beach groaned and squeaked obscenely beneath them. "I mean it, Crowley," Aziraphale warned, which came out as more of a whine. Kicking his legs and twisting his arms yet achieving nothing. “You can't just-"

"But I can," Crowley cut in with a serpent-like hiss, tongue clicking behind his teeth. "You're so _soft_ Aziraphale. Clever but soft. I could crush you." Crowley felt Aziraphale strain against him again. Refusing to agree, to yield his defeat.  
  
"What can you do to stop me?" Crowley quipped, squeezing Aziraphale's wrists bruisingly tight. "You have to try harder." He emphasised his point with burning pressure. He watched the angel beneath him stare up in complete and utter shock. A hint of betrayal sparking in such blue, bewildered eyes. 

"But why?" Aziraphale whispered. Eyes on the edge of watering. Utterly unresisting. "Why would you want to do such a thing?"

Deep down the shittiest side of Crowley revelled in the power. Aziraphale was ordinarily so proper, or at least he tried to be. Now he looked idiotic and wide-eyed. So alluringly innocent. It felt ridiculously good and that was bad. 

Aziraphale screwed his eyes shut, fighting off a dull whimper. "Crowley, _please..._ " he began. Soft and imploring. "It hurts."

Crowley flinched as if he had been violently struck. Releasing his unintentional death grip with a great gasp. Suddenly very much in the moment. As horror coiled around his insides he caught the unmistakable scent of fear. Aziraphale's. Aziraphale was _afraid_ and it was because of him.

"Angel I-" Crowley chocked, hating himself furiously. Full of gut-wrenching guilt, regret as he'd never known. What was he doing? Perhaps God had had his number all along. If he Fell for this moment then it was well deserved. “ _Aziraphale,_ " he begged. "I didn't mean- I'm sorry!" 

Not willing to meet blank shades Aziraphale steeled himself. Unwilling to comment. He forced himself to stay still. 

"Have I always been such a bastard?" Crowley asked, genuinely wrecked. Holding his trembling hands up to inspect with dismay. Ripping the sunglasses from his yellow eyes, he no longer wanted that barrier to exist between them.

"What the hell have I done?" He looked Aziraphale straight in the eye, willing the angel to do the same. "I didn't mean to- I've ruined it. After six thousand years I've finally fucked it up."

Aziraphale met his gaze, a pained expression was all it took. Fears confirmed Crowley felt startlingly sick, six thousand years. For six thousand years he'd been a demon all along. Thinking that he was better than those in Hell. Who was he kidding?

Maybe he'd gotten everything wrong. Maybe instead of friendship, light flirtations and praise he had actually pushed, pressured. Crowley cramped with panic. What if their occasional drunken liaisons weren't what they both wanted? Frozen and panicking Crowley helplessly held up his hands in surrender. 

Following the events through a haze of perplexity Aziraphale blinked simply because he couldn't smile. Hardly deeming his default expression appropriate given the current situation. He watched Crowley the same way he had watched Greek tradies play out. The rise and fall of great cities and grand civilizations. Beautiful but tragic. That was Crowley through and through.  
  
He figured that he ought to muster the strength to resist, to rally and fight. To take his chance and break free. Maybe slap Crowley something silly. But deep down he didn't want to do any of those things. He never had been very good at resisting temptation and its name was most certainly Anthony J. Crowley.

"If you have quite finished," Aziraphale began waspishly. Deciding that there was simply no defence against the serpent, not when he was so obviously about to cry of all things. "Perhaps I can now get a word in?"

Crowley sat mutely, staring down with dread. He nodded once and bit his lip hard.

"I dare say that your imagination is running away with you. Dearest, you are not thee big bad so do get over yourself. I'm soft," Aziraphale admitted. No longer deeply ashamed that he was. "But I'm not made of glass. It would take a great deal more to hurt me, not that I want you to of course. I'm just stating a fact.  
I am not human."

Crowley couldn't believe his luck. That Aziraphale would even talk to him. "I don't deserve-"

"You make me uneasy," Aziraphale admitted bluntly. Because Crowley needed to hear it. "You can be rude, insensitive and woefully wayward at times. But it's not all your doing. Much of the problem is mine and mine alone. Hang-ups, I suppose."

"Uneasy?" Crowley asked, a little put out. Scouting back so he was more sitting on Aziraphale's lap than anything.

"Just on the odd occasion."

"Like right now," the demon observed. Surprised that Aziraphale was allowing him to stay put. Basically spooning the angel as Aziraphale sat himself up awkwardly at an angle. 

"Right now would be a prime example." Aziraphale agreed, nodding his head because the rest of his body was mostly useless still. It all looked just a little bit ridiculous. "You are dreadfully dramatic. But I don't believe that you would ever seek to truly harm me. Not really. Although you gave me a bit of a scare just now. You're stronger than me Crowley, you really must keep that in mind."

"Angel I would never hurt you," Crowley promised, swearing it. "This is- that was just _posturing_ angel. Pathetic posturing. I'll make it up to you, anything you want I'll do. No matter how long it takes. Or what it is. I'd rather rip out my own eyes than-"

"Crowley, dear boy. You need to breathe." Aziraphale's hand was a grounding force on his shoulder to steady. Crowley, still in the midst of hyperventilation, obeyed, taking deep calming gulps of air. Appreciating oxygen in a way he never had before. Wonderful stuff. "I wouldn't hurt you." He levelled, "I know what I just did was beyond wrong and it will _never_ happen again."

Deciding to give Crowley a break Aziraphale patted his head. "Nothing really happened. If it did we wouldn't be having this conversation." There was a warning there, a very reasonable one by Crowley's reckoning. 

"Maybe your soft but you are so much more than I am. Much smarter for starters."

"Ah but you have a more active imagination," Aziraphale offered. "A powerful skill indeed."

Emboldened Crowley continued passionately. "You told me once that I went too fast, I want to slow down. The problem is I don't think I know how."  
  
"You know how to when you're with me."

"Time stands still when I'm with you." Crowley gaped at his own words. Horrified as Aziraphale straight up giggled. "If I'm the only one making an idiot out of myself here then why is your heart beating so fast?" 

Aziraphale smiled wistfully, "yours is too my dear."

"Maybe, but yours is- oh. There it is again. A flash of...something. I can smell it in fact. Fear?" Crowley's chest tightened. "Is it fear? If it is I'll go into that church right now and baptize myself. Just say the word."

Aziraphale huffed. Not wanting to test Crowley's level of crazy. "There are different types of fear." Aziraphale mused at the idea, rolling his eyes but not unkindly. "I just don't trust myself. It's all quite human really. Surprising still.  
I just don't think that you would be able to understand my predicament. It is quite peculiar."

"Try me," Crowley insisted. 

"Dearest, you're simply not wired that way."

"Please," Crowley implored. Getting desperate all over again. "Please, please, pleassse!"

"Feelings."

"Feelings?" The demon echoed, smirking without thought. "You have feelings?"  
  
"I do, of course, I do!"  
  
Crowly hummed. "Implying that what? I don't? You think that I can't feel?"

"You're a demon."

"So?"

Aziraphale worried his bottom lip. "We are getting rather off track here, as I feared that we would."

Crowley started to laugh. 

"Oh good show, I'm glad you find this funny. Let's just drop the subject, shall we?" Thoroughly embarrassed Aziraphale attempted to push Crowley off his lap, inwardly fuming once more as the demon just simply sat there. Like the cat that got the cream. "You do know that the bus could be along at any moment."

"Are you talking about love?" Crowley blurted out. A bolt hitting him out of the blue. 

"I suppose I am," Aziraphale stated. Feeling as though they were once again heading into uncharted waters. Staring up at Crowley he was surprised to see no jest present. No scorn for the word or its potential. 

Crowley's hypnotic eyes began to narrow, "so that time in the car..."

Aziraphale smiled, "flashes of love."

"It wasn't the place," Crowley inferred.

"It wasn't the place."

"But you...for me?" Crowley asked incredulously. But hopeful, so very hopeful.

"For you," Aziraphale agreed. Giving the demon on him another little nudge. "Is it so hard to fathom? Even after all this time together?"

"For me," Crowley repeated dumbly, still struck by it. " _Really?_ "

"I can see you're having a moment. Would you be so kind as to let me up? I do believe that my legs have fallen asleep." 

Ignoring the request Crowley twitched. "How long?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How long have you had...alternative feelings for me?"

"Oh," Aziraphale chuffed. A bit embarrassed. "A good while now I'm afraid."

"And you didn't think to mention it?" Crowley asked perplexed. Because what the actual fuck. 

"It didn't seem appropriate." Aziraphale offered. "What we had worked, we were on opposite sides. And I really didn't want to risk ruining what we had. I was content to simply see you, to just be around you." Aziraphale tried now to nudge Crowley off again. Sighing in extreme exasperation as the demon stayed put. 

"I feel the same," Crowley offered, failing to look nonplused. "Exactly the same." Rather reluctantly Crowley scooted himself off of Aziraphale, not the slightest bit chagrined. He sat perfectly pleased as the angel finally righted himself, picked off imaginary dirt and settled. Shoulder to shoulder. Closer than they'd ever sat before. 

Crowley just couldn't help himself. "But when exactly?"

Aziraphale found himself alive with the memory. Basking in it. "World War II. After the bomb had dropped and we were standing in the ruins. I was so upset, about the books you know. But you had thought to save them. And you did that just for me. It was a purely unselfish act, so thoughtful and kind. When you handed them to me our hands touched for a single moment. Such a small thing but I knew.  
I was hopelessly in love."

"Hardly momentous," Crowley smiled. Thinking of all the rescues, all the things he had done to please the principality. Bloody books. "It just sorts of happens I guess."

"You could perhaps put that into words. Explain your side. You say you feel the same?"

"I'm not Shakespeare."

Aziraphale raised just one eyebrow. Hopeful. "Simple words then."

"That'd be demonstrous." 

Aziraphale hummed, bordering on disappointed. Something Crowley just couldn't stand. "Eden angel. For me, it started in the garden." Crowley subconsciously began to fix his hair, not that was anything wrong with it.

"I had my orders, I wasn't really supposed to approach you but I couldn't stop myself. I'd watched you in the garden and you just seemed so different. Then there was the whole thing with the apple and I thought _he'll never talk to me now_. But you did. Then we got into the flaming sword business and you said that you straight up _gave it away_. It started right there for me. I began to fall then and there. You'd think I'd have learned from my first freefall but no. I sought you out ever since. In every era. So yeah, there you go." Crowley nodded, mostly to himself. "The slowest burn ever."

Aziraphale, being an entity of love found it definitely hard to actually show it. So instead he settled for finding Crowley's hand and holding it. Entwining their fingers and giving a fierce little squeeze. His words, however, were not so romantic. "That bus says Oxford on it."

"Huh?" Crowley glanced down the lane. His mischief already afoot as the bus bustled along. "Yeah, but it'll go to London first. The driver just won't know why."

Aziraphale chuckled, "you willy old serpent."

"My place then?"

"Your place," Aziraphale concluded fondly. "I'd invite you to mine but it's all just a big pile of ashes at the moment. Don't know what I'll do."

Crowley relished the contact between them. "Rebuild. We'll fix it, all of it.  Anything you like." Heart beating hard Crowley made the move he had only dreamed of before. He kissed Aziraphale, not with hunger or burning passion. There was time for that later, as there had been before. But for now, his lips moved softly against Aziraphale's. Reassured and euphoric as the ex principality returned the kiss with just a little bit of gusto.

By the time the bus pulled alongside, they stood together. Inseparable and content.

Agnes Nutter had been the first to know, that Aziraphale and Crowley would go against Heaven and Hell respectively. For their own reasons and for each other. She knew how one would fall in love and that by turn the other would rise in it, meeting each other somewhere in the middle. Only they'd just miss that exact point for about six thousand years or so.  
  
But who was counting?  


 


End file.
